Butterflies and Hurricanes
by Pesky kitten
Summary: One-shot. Witty, music related story about how Bella meets a drummer named Edward who well...rocks her world. You really need to read it to understand. Try it out!


**Hey guys! I know I haven't updated my other stories in…well..forever. And I'm really sorry about that, I just need some inspiration. So, I wrote this one-shot. You guys may not like it, and that's okay I have a very strange sense of humor that's not always adaptable to others. But, I do hope you enjoy it! There are little hidden parts of my life in it and what I'm all about so thanks for reading!**

**Butterflies and Hurricanes**

Here I was again. Another show, another spectacle. Sometimes I wonder why I even go to these things anymore. I guess it's become a tradition now. Ever since we were fifteen Rosalie, Alice and I have been going to these things. And back then we thought we were the shit, I mean we kind of were.

Sporting our vintage band tees (I always reped the pixies, of course. Arguably one of the best bands ever to grace my ear buds) Rose was always a Metallica fan and Alice had a huge thing for Kurt Kobain (I swear after he died she went into mourning for two months hollering she lost the love of her life) we all had our converse on (the official shoe of rock) studded belts (badass award, please) and something completely and extraordinary so out of the ordinary that the only plausible explanation for it even being anywhere near our bodies was for the sole purpose of looking back years later and saying "what the hell was I thinking wearing something that resembled anything remotely like that?"

For me it was these sweet Madonna gloves I owned that I made out of fishnets I cut up and put my fingers through the holes. Yeah, I know. Not the best choice of style. But hey, Madonna was cool, I was shooting for Blondie but you can't win em' all. Did I mention they were hot pink?

I rest my case.

That was all and great when I was fifteen. I would go to any and all of the band shows playing in the area. I loved the feeling of the floor thumping beneath me as the drums roared viciously through the crowd, ripping the seams of silence into an explosion of vibrancy and vigor. The lasers flashing in front of my eyes, blinding me in the most fantastic way. The way a guitar rift electrified every atom in my body, rejuvenating me, cleansing me, it was like for the first time in my life I felt…alive.

It was an amazing feeling. It was my escape from the world I tried so hard to run from. Death, destruction, rape, murder, robberies, natural disasters, hissy fits, cat fights, the list goes on and on.

I always had this one reoccurring dream. As soon as my head hit that pillow all I saw were my black converse burning rubber against the road, following the yellow line separating it right down the middle. From the shadow of my shoes I could tell it took place in the evening, but I never saw anything beyond that road. I just ran, with no destination, no plan, no looking back. I never liked to look back, I never ran anywhere but forward. My breath never became ragged, my legs never too sore to stop, the only time they would ever falter was the minute my emerald eyes opened to the brightness of daybreak.

And that's how I would spend my days in dreamland. Running. Anywhere and everywhere. Freud would have had a field day with me.

So, when Rosalie, Alice and I started going to the shows they became my obsession. Finally, there was somewhere I could go where I felt I belonged. Where everything was simple.

It was me and the music.

A beautiful, uncomplicated, completely passionate relationship. We were already married, already destined to be together forever, I didn't have to worry about jealousy or unfaithfulness. We got along perfectly.

Don't get me wrong, the passion hasn't left our relationship. That would be like trying to breathe under water. No, it was more the fact that it's been five years and I'm still in the same place, doing the same thing, spending my nights in the same way. The crowd constantly changing while I stood still.

The spark was gone, the very thing that enticed me in the first place. The fireworks that used to shine so bright throughout the crowd now simply flickered against my irises. I don't know when it happened; I can't pinpoint a moment or capture a specific time.

All I knew was that I was standing in the crowd with my two best friends, music was blaring through the amps set around the stage, the energy in the room was almost tangible,

And I have never felt more alone.

It's funny; the more band shows you go to the more "in" you get with all the members. The first time you go backstage your awestruck. "Wow! I'm backstage with the band. This is the coolest experience of my entire life".

They're not famous, their probably never going to be famous. Their music is great, but realistically the music industry is corrupt and full of dicks, so their chance of fame is slim to none.

But, at the moment you're the awesome girls who get to chill backstage with the band. You're on top of the world. You could jump off a building and walk away unscathed. You are the MAN.

After a while you realize that most guys in a band think they are the burger king (Dane Cook reference) if you know what I mean. In their minds, they're already extremely famous. If they want all the yellow m&m's picked out of a glass bowl, by damn they better have it. I mean, if their dressing room is not at least 12x15ft it is simply unacceptable. Call the po-po, someone's gonna freak.

And they say girls are drama queens. I've seen more hissy fits from band guys than any girl on her period.

But, of course it's not all bad. You get to meet all these great people whose lives are significantly cooler than yours that make you feel like maybe you should do something more with your days than sit on the couch watching your Live in New York Unplugged: Nirvana DVD and pick up an instrument.

That's how Rosalie and Alice met Emmett and Jasper.

The way band boys usually operate is the lead singer generally goes for the hottest girl in a five mile radius of him. Or a few girls. Rosalie however, being tall, blonde, and coming out of the womb with flawless skin and a perfect body can't simply be ignored.

It's sort of comical really. The minute they get off stage, BAM bee line to Rosalie. "Oh hey, I'm Dan. So, how's it going?" The funny part was that she was never really interested. Something that I was always a little jealous of. Here was this completely talented, not to mention slammin hot guy wanting to get all up in your junk and you're just going to turn your head and blow him off?

REALLY?!?!

This would happen pretty often, so often in fact that Rosalie was generally called the "Ice queen" around our circles. I found it absolutely hilarious..her not so much.

That was of course until Emmett showed up. I was shocked that he even got her to acknowledge him. Emmett wasn't the lead singer of a band, maybe that's why she looked at him differently. Maybe it was his genuinely great personality, or his dimples that popped out whenever he would smile from just looking at her. It could have also been is godly good looks. Who knew? The point is, Rosalie noticed him. For the first time when a guy approached her, she didn't shun him away.

Alice and I were baffled. Emmett wasn't exactly smooth; he was from an underground metal band called Death from the Hallows that wasn't exactly my cup of tea. But the minute he set foot on that stage you could just tell he absolutely loved being exactly where he was, doing the one thing he loved.

Personally, that's what I think Rose fell in love with.

She left with him that night, and 3 years later they're as happy as ever. She's never missed a show.

Alice met Jasper a little differently. We were all at this indie pop show that a few of our friends were playing at. Alice and I were sitting in the third row in front of this guy who kept flashing photos behind her. She got so aggravated with him she turned around and when she opened her mouth to tell him exactly where his camera could go she turned into a mute.

Understandable. Jasper was an extremely striking guy; he had a very mysterious, brooding thing going on. He was taking pictures for this music blog he wrote on at the time, a few of his friends were playing in one of the bands and he was there to take artsy, pretentious pictures.

As Alice sat there in a very statuesque sort of style he simply said "I'm sorry, does this bother you?" In a voice that Alice could never resist. He had a slight southern accent; something you can tell had faded over the time he spent in New York. Alice, being the social butterfly she was, finally collected herself enough to close her gaping mouth and introduce herself.

Turns out Alice was Jasper's muse. Literally. He just shot the cover for Rolling Stone. Who's on this cover you ask? Why, none other than MUSE. Not to mention Matt Belamy took a certain liking to him.

So for two years it's been Rose, Alice, Emmett, Jasper (when he and Alice weren't traveling) and lonely Bella Swan.

At first it was a blast. All of us hanging out, rocking out, outdoors, indoors, it didn't matter. Anything we did, we did together and it was one of the bet times in my life.

But there comes a point of everyday, a point that in the beginning didn't bother me much, when the evening approached and Emmett would take Rosalie in his arms and kiss the top of her head lovingly while you could always catch Jasper secretly taking snapshots of Alice in the perfect light, just when sky would glow like a portrait from the heavens.

After some time, you begin to look around and wonder where your knight in shining armor is.

And so a few moths so by and I'm at yet another show. Hip cocked, arms crossed, total badass look on my face. "Yeah, I do this a lot. No big deal" kind of stance. Alice and Rose mirroring my signature look in the crowd of pubescent prostitots who wanted nothing more than to get backstage.

And by backstage I mean in some guitarists' pants.

That was the first time I saw him. He came out on stage, drumsticks wedged in his back pocket with his adorable vest on, looking like he was just ready to wreck havoc on the place.

And he did. He rocked out like it was 1995.

The minute that first beat streamed into my ear canal something went off in my head. It was as if something inside me just exploded. Sparks went flying everywhere, lights danced in front of my face so intricately not even the New York City ballet could put them to shame, my head was finally above the water and I could breathe with ease.

I'm not going to lie and tell you it was happily ever after from here. That I ran backstage and when our eyes met we instantly discovered our love for one another.

No. Not really how it happened. When do things really ever go down that way? This wasn't some cheesy 90's flick with Julia Roberts.

The reality was, I was absolutely terrified of the effect he had on me. I didn't know the guy, I had no idea was his name was, where he was from, what his family was like and yet every time I watched his hands fly over those drums I froze. This couldn't possibly be a normal reaction! I've watched hundreds of drummers, heard thousands of songs, and not once felt the slightest impact that I was feeling at that moment then. It was unexplainable, a term I wasn't very fond of. I had dated plenty of band boys before, and believe me when I say good luck finding one that won't break your heart.

There was James, the guitarist from Great Falls who I found out had quite the lineup of groupies behind his 1995 mustang, Mike, the lead singer of Lights Out who ended up dumping me for some bimbo blonde he met while playing a show in Jersey. And last but not least Jake who felt it wasn't necessary to tell me I was one out of 5 girlfriends he had around the country. Oh, but I was his "favorite".

Yeah…no. To the curb, buddy. To the curb.

I didn't meet my mysterious drummer that night. After his band played I actually didn't see him at all. I didn't want to ask about him, I felt it was seem a little stalker-esk and I didn't want to seem like one of those girls who thinks "he's sooooo cute, can I meet him?? Omgz !" Because that's not really what I'm all about.

No, the day we met I was completely not prepared for my second encounter with him. I dabble in writing you see, and write for a very well known music blog every now and then. Emmett, knowing I have these sort of connections asked me to write an article on this show he was playing in that ranged in different music styling's and included five bands altogether.

"No, prob Em".

Pfffft. Apparently the sound check was an extremely important event I absolutely needed to be at requiring my presence at eight in the morning. Let me say I haven't woken up that early since my junior year in high school.

So, since I figured it was just Em, and well who am I really trying to impress, I'm going to pick the one day that I look like I just crawled out of the gutter I spent the entire night sleeping in with a suspicious amount of cats to show up and 'observe' the sound check.

So as I'm sitting in the back row with my feet up on the chair in front of me holding a large cup of coffee in between my legs that's on the cusp of spilling all over my lap (not that it would make any difference to my astounding attire) trying to keep my eyes open despite all the raging noise around me in comes my drummer man.

"Terrible isn't it?"

"Huh?" Oh yeah, I'm seductive.

"Waking up at the crack of dawn to listen to a simple sound check, for those who don't have to be here at least"

Speechless. Words could literally not form in my brain to be produced to exit my mouthpiece. So what did I do? Well, I could have replied with something witty and charming like:

"Even though I don't have to be here, I think I just found something that made the 8am wakeup call worthwhile"

Or something mildly corny yet endearingly hilarious like:

"Who says I don't have to be here? I happen to play the Maraca. You'll see me Maracin' out a little later, no worries. It's quite the show."

But noooo. This was my choice at the time:

-Insert nervous high pitched voice that only dogs have ease in understanding- "Yeah, I…um…I could leave..if you want me to..you're.. oh wow"

Smooooooooth operator. Smoooooooooth operatOR.

Luckily, for me, he laughed it off.

"Edward Cullen. I play drums for Garden of Eden. I didn't choose the name, by the way."

Edward. The name suited him so well. He was so adorable I really couldn't even handle myself. He sat next to me until his band was up for checks; he was wearing his sweater vest with a flannel shirt underneath and grey jeans that fit him perfectly. He was just a little taller than me and wore agile socks with his converse. All of which just made him that much more irresistible.

I couldn't believe the guy that I saw at a show months ago that made me feel so terrifyingly wonderful was talking to me. Especially when I looked like a train wreck.

So we started dating, kind of. We were never ones to exactly talk about our relationship; it was just kind of assumed that we were together. It was like an unspoken agreement. Which was just fine with me. As long as he wanted me, and no one else it never bothered me.

We've been dating for two months now, and it's crazy that I have someone so talented and amazing in my life now.

So as I'm standing at this show, wondering if I'm too old to be here- I see him finally come out on stage and naturally a huge smile spreads across my face.

My only challenge now is holding on to my prize.


End file.
